


learn to fly again

by Spikedluv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: trope_bingo, M/M, Peter and Jackson are part of the pack, Peter's alive somehow, Pre-Slash, Scott doesn't come off looking good in this fic, Stiles is definitely something, The Sheriff is not completely in the supernatural dark, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: The Hale pack is betrayed when an omega pack shows up in Beacon Hills intent on taking over the territory and Stiles learns something about his family lineage.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 21
Kudos: 421





	learn to fly again

**Author's Note:**

> This story goes AU sometime after season one.
> 
> Written for the _Wing Fic_ square in my Round 14 [Trope Bingo on DW](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) card [here](https://spikedluv.dreamwidth.org/1591755.html).
> 
> Title taken from the song ‘Broken Wings’.
> 
> Posted: April 12, 2020

“How’d the meeting go?” Stiles said when he answered Scott’s request to face-time.

“I don’t know,” Scott said indifferently.

“You don’t know? How can you not know?”

“Because I didn’t go.”

“You didn’t go?”

“Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say?” Scott said, half joking, half genuinely annoyed.

Well, he wasn’t the only one. “If you didn’t go to the meeting, where have you been all afternoon? I called you hours ago.”

Scott gave Stiles a guilty look and Stiles couldn’t stop the eye-roll. “Seriously?” Stiles took a breath. “Never mind that. Why didn’t you go?”

“Dr. Deaton said I didn’t need to go.”

“Deaton said.” Before Scott could bring up the repeating thing again, Stiles said, “What does Deaton have to do with it?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured he knew something I didn’t.”

“You . . . ? Did you ask him?”

“No,” Scott said blithely. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

Stiles ground his teeth together so he didn’t say the first thing that popped into his mind – which was that Scott would’ve taken any excuse to not have to attend a meeting with Derek’s pack – then made a conscious decision to relax his jaw.

“I gotta go,” Scott said before Stiles could formulate a reply that wouldn’t make Scott mad. “Allison and I are going to the movies.”

“You just spent the entire afternoon with Allison.”

Scott shrugged and gave Stiles a pleased smile. “I know. Talk to you later.”

The screen flickered and Scott was gone. Stiles snapped the pencil he didn’t remember picking up to flip between his fingers. He’d had to miss the pack meeting because of a family thing with his dad, and he’d been relying on Scott for the low-down.

With a sound of disgust, Stiles tossed the pieces of pencil in the trash. He stood up and paced the room, trying to work off some excess energy and his irritation with Scott. He swung his arms and did some jumping jacks as he contemplated the fact that he’d have to call Derek to find out what happened.

Stiles grabbed his phone and opened Derek’s contact (saved under Sourwolf). When Stiles’s phone rang, he heard an answering ringtone outside his bedroom window. Stiles sighed and ended the call. He opened the window and stuck his head out. “How long have you been out here?”

“A few minutes. I wanted to give you time to . . .”

“Stop wanting to strangle Scott?” Stiles stepped back. “Get in here and tell me how the meeting with the envoy went.”

A pack of werewolves – all omegas that had banded together – claimed to be looking for a pack to join, but Derek’s contacts within the werewolf community said they were also looking for a fight. They’d already tried to take territory by force more than once, and been driven out each time. And now they’d set their sights on Beacon Hills.

“I still don’t understand why they’re coming to Beacon Hills,” Stiles said. “All the places they’ve tried this power play so far, that we know of, anyway, have been on the east coast.”

“Maybe they just like the ocean.”

Stiles lost track of what he’d been going to say next. “Was that a joke?”

Derek glared.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Stiles waved his hand. “So tell me what this ‘envoy’ said.”

“She said that we have 48 hours to decide whether we wanted to settle this peacefully or with a fight.”

“And peacefully means?”

“Walking away from Beacon Hills and handing it over to them.”

“So there’s going to be a fight.”

“It always ends in a fight,” Derek said, resigned.

“Okay,” Stiles said, ignoring Derek’s cynicism for now. “Did she tell you how a pack of omegas plans to win a fight against a pack with a full-shift alpha?”

“She didn’t mention that, no.”

“Well, then, I guess we need to come up with a plan.”

~*~

Early Saturday morning Stiles showed up to the fight with his trusty bat and a pouch full of mountain ash, thanks to Deaton. They’d chosen a spot in the preserve that was away from the town and would give them the tactical advantage of familiarity.

The Hale pack had arrived early to make sure the omega pack hadn’t left any hidden traps to be sprung during the fight. Stiles got antsy waiting for them to show up. The others weren’t faring any better, their faces pointed towards the sky, reaching for a sound, a scent.

Derek stiffened first, and the others gradually went on alert as they caught the same scent or sound their alpha had. They were already arrayed in a semi-circle when the omega pack stepped out of the trees – Derek in the center, Boyd, Erica and Isaac on his right, Jackson, Stiles and Peter on his left.

The omega pack stopped. One member stepped forward; apparently their leader. He gestured towards Derek. “Alpha Hale.”

The words sounded mocking rather than respectful. Stiles’s hackles went up. Peter reached out and touched Stiles’s arm in warning. The omega glanced in Stiles’s direction, then looked away dismissively. Stiles tightened his grip on the bat and imagined the satisfying thunk when it hit that asshole.

“Omega,” Derek said with a sneer, not even bothering with the werewolf’s name.

Stiles felt a surge of satisfaction at the insult.

The omega looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. Still, he said, “Is there no way we can settle this matter peacefully?”

“You can leave Beacon Hills,” Derek said.

The omega’s lip curled. “We appreciate the offer, but that’s not going to happen. We like it here.”

“You literally _just_ got here,” Stiles scoffed.

The omega didn’t bother to even look at Stiles, just continued to stare at Derek as if it was possible for him to stare Derek into submission.

“I’ll give you one more chance to leave,” Derek said. “Nobody has to die today.”

The omega smirked, and a frisson of _awareness_ crawled up Stiles’s spine. Something was wrong.

“Like I said, we like it here.”

“That’s too bad,” Peter said. He shifted and struck so quickly that even Stiles, who knew it was going to happen, was caught off-guard.

The omega went down, most of his throat missing. Stiles averted his eyes, though he couldn’t turn off his ears to the gurgles as the werewolf fought to draw air through his ruined throat. There was a moment of chaos before the rest of the omega pack regrouped. They’d been surprised, but not weakened by the death of their leader, as a normal pack might be when their alpha was killed.

“You can make a different choice!” Derek’s voice rang out over the sound of the omega pack’s voices as they rallied.

The omega pack did not make a different choice. They rushed forward as one. Stiles reached into the pouch and withdrew a handful of mountain ash. He closed his eyes and _believed_ as he tossed the ash into the air.

Stiles opened his eyes in time to watch as the omegas ran over the line of mountain ash that had settled on the ground around them in a perfect circle. “What the hell?”

Stiles had time to try once more, but the omegas crossed that line, as well, and were upon them. Jackson stepped in front of Stiles and took the first hit. Stiles raised his bat. There were seven of them against a dozen omegas, but they had the advantage of being a mostly-functional pack with an actual alpha that were fighting to protect their home.

Boyd, Erica and Isaac stepped in front of Derek to offer protection long enough for him to shift, then Derek was a dark streak between their legs. Some of the omegas paused in their fight to watch Derek’s transformation, their longing for an alpha palpable even to Stiles. They were propelled back into motion when Derek tore out the throat of one of their pack members with his teeth.

With the element of surprise gone, Peter and Jackson worked together, with Stiles using his bat to finish off any werewolf sent his way. Boyd, Erica and Isaac were doing the same on the other side and Derek was tearing up the middle. Things were going to plan and Stiles let himself think that they were going to win this fight when a crack echoed through the forest.

Every werewolf in the Hale pack paused in their fight and let out a collective whine when Derek stumbled. Another crack sounded and Derek went down. Red bloomed on Derek’s chest and on his side. With dawning horror, Stiles realized that Derek had been shot.

“Derek!” Stiles yelled. He started forward, but Peter and Jackson both stopped him.

“Keep fighting!” Stiles said when one of the omegas took the opportunity of their confusion to jump on Jackson’s back.

Peter growled and grabbed the omega around the head to throw him off. That left Stiles free to move towards Derek. Before Stiles could reach him, one of the omegas loomed over Derek. Derek snapped and snarled and made an attempt to get to his feet, but in this state he was no match for even an omega.

Stiles felt fear like he hadn’t since his dad had been involved in a shootout last year, since he’d learned that his mom wasn’t going to get better. “Nooo!” Stiles yelled.

The spark at his center burned warm, then red hot. Stiles had never experienced such heat before. It felt like he was burning up with the worst fever, then pain like he’d never felt hit – his back, his arms, his head, _everywhere_.

Suddenly Stiles could smell everything – the iron rich scent of Derek’s blood, decaying leaves, unwashed bodies . . . and fear. The omega that had been standing over Derek took a step back. Stiles opened his mouth to tell the omega that he’d _better_ get back. Instead of words, a few sparks came out of Stiles’s mouth and smoke billowed out of his nose.

Shocked, Stiles took a step back and stumbled sideways, his body mass larger than he was used to. Before he fell over, his wings – wings! Stiles glanced over his shoulder to confirm and still couldn’t believe what he was seeing – flapped and kept him on his feet. From the way the omegas – those that were still conscious, anyway – were looking at him, they saw it too.

Stiles roared and took a menacing step forward. The omegas scrambled backwards, then turned to run. The Hale pack was waiting for them. Despite the surprise they had to be feeling at Stiles’s unexpected transformation, they’d moved to surround the omegas. When they realized the predicament they were in, the omegas immediately went to their knees and surrendered.

Stiles raised his head and gave a triumphant roar. Flame erupted from his mouth and caught the nearest leaves on fire. Stiles rose up on his back legs and batted at the fire with his . . . front paws. When the fire was out, Stiles crouched over Derek.

Erica pushed on Stiles’s leg and said, “Let me get to Derek, you big oaf.”

Stiles snorted smoke and let Erica check on Derek. “It doesn’t look like they used wolfsbane bullets,” Erica said.

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Hey, watch it!” Peter said. “Been there, done that with being charbroiled.”

Stiles felt bad, even though it was Peter and he hadn’t meant to do it. He patted Peter on the back and knocked him over.

“I know you did that on purpose,” Peter said, but he didn’t sound mad.

Stiles smiled.

“That’s terrifying,” Jackson said.

“How are you feeling, nephew?”

Derek growled.

“Well, while you’re just laying around, I’ll question our prisoners.”

~*~

Boyd sent Erica and Isaac to see if they could find a trace of the shooter while he observed Peter’s questioning of the omegas. With wide eyes on Stiles as much as Derek, the omegas admitted that they’d been invited to Beacon Hills and promised an alpha, promised that they’d belong to a _real_ pack again. Erica and Isaac returned; they’d found the spot where the shooter had made his or her nest and followed their trail back to the road, where they must have gotten into a vehicle. At no point had they been able to pick up a scent.

Stiles was unable to contribute to the discussion of who might have wanted to run the Hale pack out of Beacon Hills, or at least weaken them, because he couldn’t figure out how to change back to his human form. And every time he opened his mouth he belched a lot of smoke and some sparks that had the werewolves patting at themselves to put them out.

Stiles yelped when Jackson scooped up a handful of the mountain ash and let it trickle through his fingers, but nothing happened. In surprise, Stiles released the transformation and landed sprawled on the ground in his human form.

“Ow,” Stiles groaned. “Everything hurts right now. Is it like that for you guys?” he asked the pack, but kept his eyes on Derek.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Stiles groaned. “Not what I wanted to hear, sourwolf.”

Jackson brushed off his hands and helped Stiles up. “Lydia’s gonna be pissed she missed this.” When Stiles was steady on his feet, Jackson said, “Who supplied you with the mountain ash?”

“Deaton.”

“And who do we know who could hide their scent from werewolves if they wanted to?” Peter said.

“Deaton,” Derek growled.

Even without knowing why Deaton would do something like that, the pack was angry enough to want to confront him right then. But Derek was still healing, Stiles was weak from the unexpected transformation, and all of the werewolves were covered in blood. They needed to clean up, get some sleep, and come up with a plan.

~*~

When Stiles got home he face-planted on the bed and took a nap. He put off calling Scott and took a shower. Stiles was still damp under his clean clothes when he pulled up Scott’s contact information.

Scott was laughing when he answered the phone. “Hey, Stiles!”

“He-e-ey, Scotty. Where were you this morning?”

“Working,” Scott said. “Man, you know that I work every Saturday morning.”

“We had that thing,” Stiles said. “I expected to see you there.”

“Dr. Deaton told me I didn’t need to be there,” Scott said, and Stiles could picture his confused puppy face.

“ _Deaton_ told you. What about what Derek told you? Or what _I_ told you?” Stiles went on when Scott scoffed at Derek’s name.

“You look fine, so it seems like Deaton was right and you didn’t need me,” Scott said.

“We got lucky,” Stiles said, “but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t have used your help.”

Stiles wanted to tell Scott about what had happened to him, but something held him back. Scott said he had to go because Allison was there and he ended the call before Stiles could say anything to stop him.

Instead of banging the phone (or his head) against the desk, Stiles sent a group text enquiring how everyone was. He stuck the phone in his pocket and went downstairs to find something to eat. He was even more famished than he usually was after time spent training with the pack.

Stiles was surprised to see his dad sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the paper when he bounded into the kitchen. “Hey, dad.” Stiles continued to the cupboard and got out the box of Poptarts because he wanted something quick. “What are you doing home so early?”

While the Poptarts heated in the toaster, Stiles got out eggs, shredded cheese, and what was left of the deli ham and threw together a six-egg omelet that turned out to be more of a scramble.

“I only had to work half a day,” John said, folding the paper and setting it aside. “I was surprised you were still in bed when I got home.”

“I wasn’t,” Stiles said with a mouthful of frosted raspberry goodness. “Not _still_. I got up early and then took a nap.”

“You must’ve been really out of it to not hear me come home and check on you.”

“Must’ve been.” Stiles scraped the eggs onto a plate and carried it to the table.

Stiles could feel his dad’s eyes on him as he dug into the meal.

“Hungry?” John said.

“Famished!” Stiles shoved another forkful into his mouth. Not only was he hungry, the omelet tasted better than anything he’d eaten before.

John studied Stiles with a frown. “Something’s different about you today.”

Stiles’s heart sped up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, breathing out a small, but unmistakable, plume of smoke with the lie.

“Shit,” John said, voice low with wonder. “It happened.”

“What happened?” Stiles said, blinking innocently.

John gave Stiles a look and said, “You transformed into a dragon.”

After a beat Stiles said, “Ha, a dragon, right!”

“You really wanna play it that way?” John leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “You wanna keep lying to me when I might have the answers you’re looking for?”

“You might have the answers?” Come to think of it, his dad didn’t sound surprised at all about the turn of events. “Wait, you knew I was a dragon?” Stiles said, incredulous.

“Well, I knew your mother was a dragon,” John said with way more equanimity than Stiles would’ve expected, “and that it was possible you might be, as well.”

Tears welled in Stiles’s eyes. “Mom was a dragon?”

John’s face took on the expression it always did when he thought about Stiles’s mom. “Yeah, she was.”

“Explain.” At a look from his dad, Stiles added, “Please.”

John told Stiles that he was descended from the great Polish dragon Smok Wawelski and the true story of how he’d met Claudia. “She used to breathe on my feet when they got cold,” John said, his tone full of nostalgia.

“Oh my god, I remember that! She did the same thing to my fingers after I was outside playing. I didn’t even realize . . .” Stiles looked at his dad, who seemed very comfortable with the knowledge that his son had just turned into a dragon.

“Why did it happen now?” John said.

“What do you mean?”

“Claudia told me that the change only happens when you need it to. Which means something bad must’ve happened. What was it?”

“Um . . .”

“And don’t lie to me, Stiles.”

“You seem pretty, uh, cool with the knowledge that dragons exist,” Stiles hedged.

“Not just dragons.”

Stiles choked on the drink of orange juice he’d just taken. “What?” he squeaked.

“Apparently there are all sorts of supernatural creatures out there.”

“You believe that?”

“Stiles, your mother was a dragon.”

“Point. So, you wouldn’t be surprised to discover that, say, werewolves were real?”

~*~

Derek and Stiles entered the Animal Clinic later that afternoon while the rest of the pack surrounded the building.

“Yo, Dr. D!” Stiles called out.

It was after hours and the clinic was empty except for Deaton (which Derek had confirmed before they went inside), who was probably catching up on files.

Stiles reached out for the mountain ash railing to see if he could still touch it. He felt a twinge of disappointment when his hand was repelled by an invisible barrier – he’d never again be able to manipulate mountain ash. It was worth the loss, though, to be something cool like a dragon, like his mom had been.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton said when he appeared from the back, ignoring Stiles’s use of the hated nick name.

Stiles pulled his hand away from the railing. “We wanted to update you on the omega pack. They’re all dead.”

Deaton’s eyebrows rose. “All of them?”

“No, you’re right, someone did get away. They had help. Someone shot Derek.”

Deaton’s gaze moved to Derek. “You appear to have healed.”

Stiles pinched Derek when he growled low in his throat. “Your concern is overwhelming,” he said to Deaton. “Anyway, the pack didn’t scent anyone and were only able to follow their trail to the road. They must’ve gotten away in a car.”

Deaton relaxed the tiniest bit. Stiles had heard the omegas’s accusations against Deaton, but even with the evidence of the replaced mountain ash and the hidden scent he hadn’t wanted to believe it. There was no doubting it now.

“Don’t you want to know how we did it?” Stiles said.

“I would love to.”

Stiles gave him a twisted smile. Of course he wanted to know, so he could plan against it next time. Except they weren’t going to give him a next time.

The clinic door opened before Stiles could speak. “Uh, hey, pops, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here on official business, Stiles.” John turned to Deaton. “I need to speak to you. Privately,” he added with a glance at Stiles.

“What?” Stiles squawked. “We were here first.”

“Would you like to finish your conversation?” John said, making a go-ahead gesture.

Stiles faked discomfort. “Uh, no, never mind, we’ll wait. Age before beauty, and all that.”

John gave Stiles a look before turning back to Deaton and ignoring him. “Hikers found some bodies in the Preserve,” he said.

“What a coincidence!” Stiles said. “That’s why we’re here, too!”

“Were they animals?” Deaton said. “Otherwise I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.” John pushed the gate open, breaking the mountain ash circle. “After you.”

Deaton gave the Sheriff a sour look, but turned to lead the way back to his office. John locked the gate open before following him, with Derek and Stiles right on his heels.

As soon as they were inside the office, John went on the offensive. “You put my son in a position to be very badly hurt, if not killed.”

“Circumstances put Stiles in that position,” Deaton said calmly, not missing a beat at the Sheriff’s knowledge of the dead omegas and Stiles’s involvement.

“What about the mountain ash?” Stiles demanded.

“What about it?” Deaton said placidly.

“It wasn’t _mountain ash_ ,” Stiles said through gritted teeth, curling his fingers around Derek’s wrist. Partly to keep Derek from leaping over the desk, and partly to keep himself from doing so.

“It must’ve been a bad batch.”

“A bad batch?” Stiles repeated, his tone full of skepticism.

John took a step closer to Deaton. Stiles couldn’t see the expression on his face, but Deaton took a step back. “You don’t check that sort of thing before you send my son and his friends out to fight a pack of omega werewolves that want to take over this territory?”

“I had no reason to believe it wasn’t exactly what I thought it was,” Deaton said.

Stiles glanced at Derek, who gave an imperceptible nod. Not a lie, then.

“Interesting wording,” John said. “Tell me you had no reason to believe it wasn’t actually mountain ash.”

Deaton kept his expression blank and remained silent.

“Your refusal says a lot. Okay, what about the shooter?” John said.

“What about them?”

“Who’d be able to hide their scent like that?” Stiles said.

“Any number of supernatural beings,” Deaton said. “Including yourself, Stiles, with a bit of training.”

“Which means you could, also, if you could teach me how to,” Stiles said, then went on. “There were no reports of such a being traveling with the omega pack. It’s interesting timing that they just happened to run into one here in Beacon Hills.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Mr. Stilinski.”

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression I was implying anything,” Stiles said. “I’ll say it outright. I think you aided the omega pack by giving me a substance that was definitely _not_ mountain ash and by shooting Derek.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Then you won’t mind submitting to a gun powder residue test,” John said.

“I’d be happy to,” Deaton said. “When you return with a warrant. Too bad you don’t have enough evidence to get one, since your son’s ‘friends’ killed every member of the omega pack.”

“No worries,” Stiles said. “I lied about that.” He took out his phone and played the confession he’d recorded. The one that claimed that Deaton had invited them to Beacon Hills and promised them an alpha if they took out the existing Hale pack.

“Sounds like inducement to murder to me,” John said.

“I just can’t figure out who the alpha is you promised them,” Stiles said.

“Scott,” Derek growled.

“Scott isn’t an alpha,” Stiles said. If he hadn’t been watching Deaton’s face closely he would’ve missed the minute reaction. “But he . . . could’ve been?”

“The alpha spark has to go somewhere,” Derek said.

“And it would’ve gone to Scott? Why not one of the omega pack? They were closer.”

“That’s why it had to be Deaton who killed me, not one of the omegas.”

Deaton had locked down his expression and wasn’t giving anything away.

“You’ve been grooming Scott,” Stiles said, sickened. “If your plan had worked you’d have an alpha werewolf susceptible to your manipulations. But you failed.”

Deaton’s control slipped then.

Stiles tilted his head and studied Deaton, thoughts racing. “Not the first time your plan failed?”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be dead. He tried to think when Deaton could’ve tried to execute such a plan before this. The only other time an alpha werewolf had been killed and the alpha spark transferred was Laura, but Peter had done that. Then Stiles remembered that there *had* been one other time, but no. Stiles shook his head. No, it couldn’t be. 

“What is it, Stiles?” Derek said.

Stiles looked at Derek, sorry for the pain he was going to inflict, then back to Deaton. “It was you,” Stiles said. “You were behind the Hale fire.” Stiles touched Derek’s hand when he made a pained sound. “Why?”

“Power,” Deaton said, not even trying to deny it. “Talia Hale wasn’t as easy to control as her aging mother had been. And she severed our relationship after Deucalion’s meeting with Gerard.”

“She didn’t trust you,” Stiles mused. “And rightly so, it appears.” He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his tone. “If you wanted a malleable alpha, why didn’t you keep Laura and Derek from leaving Beacon Hills?”

Deaton didn’t answer, but the wheels were still turning in Stiles’s head. “You didn’t expect the alpha spark to go to Laura.”

Deaton’s non-reaction was answer enough.

“Who else . . . ? Peter?”

A blink.

“Peter Hale was your alpha of choice?” Stiles said, incredulous.

“You’ve only ever seen what six years in a coma did to him,” Deaton said. “Peter was always impatient with Talia’s method of peaceful negotiation. Right after the fire he would’ve been full of righteous anger and the need for revenge, and he would’ve been mine to control.”

“I don’t know whether I’m more angry at you for killing my family or insulted because you thought I’d be so easily manipulated,” Peter said.

Only Derek didn’t seem surprised to hear Peter’s voice.

“I tried to keep him out,” Jackson said.

Stiles could tell that Jackson hadn’t tried very hard, and he didn’t blame him after hearing what Deaton had done.

“Any last words?” Peter said, then charged Deaton before giving him a chance to speak.

Peter bounced hard off an invisible barrier and ended up on the floor. He stood up and prepared to charge again.

“It’s mountain ash,” Stiles said.

Deaton gave Stiles a sardonic look. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have protections inside my own office?”

“How long do you plan on staying in there?” Stiles said.

“Not long,” Deaton said. He pressed a button under the desk and a panel of wall behind him slid open. “I just need to make sure you can’t follow me. A little wolfsbane should do the trick.” Deaton pulled a gun out of a drawer in his desk and pointed it at Stiles.

John drew his own service weapon. “Drop the gun. Now!”

Deaton shifted the gun so it pointed at the sheriff. Stiles could see it as if in slow motion as he put pressure on the trigger.

“Nooo!” Stiles yelled, and leapt to get between Deaton and his dad.

Pain hit hard. At first Stiles thought he’d been hit with the bullet. When he opened his eyes, Stiles realized that he’d transformed again, his wings spread out to protect both his dad and Derek. The gun had fired, but the bullet had gone wide when Deaton reacted in surprise at Stiles’ new form. Thankfully, because Stiles didn’t know what wolfsbane would do to a dragon.

“Is everyone alright?” Stiles said, or tried to.

“We’re fine, Stiles,” John said. “At least now we know what brings about the change – someone you love being in danger.”

Derek pushed at Stiles’s wing and he reluctantly drew them in.

“He’s getting away!” Peter snarled around his fangs.

In the confusion, Deaton had decided to try to escape into the hidden room. Stiles opened his mouth to yell at him to stop and a plume of flame emerged. Peter yelped and threw himself backwards as flame enveloped Deaton and spread along the wall.

“Shit!” Stiles said, suddenly back in his human form. “Dad, I can’t get in there!”

John was already moving. He took off his jacket and tossed it over Deaton to smother the flames. Jackson reappeared with a fire extinguisher and aimed it at the wall.

When the fire was out, John said, “You all need to leave. I have to call this in and get an ambulance out here.”

Peter growled and took a step forward.

“I can’t let you kill him, Peter, as much as I might like to on a personal level. Besides,” John glanced at Deaton’s burnt form, “if you’re looking for justice . . .”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Stiles said.

John gave Stiles a hug. “I know that, son.”

Peter knelt beside Deaton, but didn’t touch him even though the fire had destroyed enough of the floor to break the mountain ash circle. “Burn recovery is very painful. You’re going to be in the hospital for a very long time. But don’t worry; I”ll visit you every day.”

Deaton groaned, either in pain, or at Peter’s words.

John ended the call he’d made while Peter was ‘reassuring’ Deaton. “Get out of here, all of you.”

Stiles, shaken, let Derek lead him out of the clinic. He’d been excited that he had this form in common with his mom, that he could help protect his pack, but he hadn’t thought about _this_. What his power could do, and what it shouldn’t.

Stiles shivered at the sound of sirens in the distance.

~*~

In the aftermath of the omega pack, and Deaton’s betrayal, and Stiles’ transformation, Stiles didn’t bounce back as quickly as he thought he would. He’d often envied Scott, wishing that he had super powers and could protect his dad. The reality wasn’t as black and white as it had been in his imagination. It didn’t help that he and Scott weren’t on speaking terms at the moment. The irony being that now Stiles could understand Scott’s love-hate relationship with his werewolf form better.

Stiles had told Scott what they’d learned about Deaton, but Scott refused to believe it of the man who’d been his mentor. He was mad at Derek for warning him not to take Deaton’s pain, and mad at Stiles for taking Derek’s side. The fact that Deaton had caused the Hale fire and invited an omega pack to Beacon Hills for the sole purpose of killing all of Derek’s pack made no difference to him. Derek had to threaten to exile Scott from Beacon Hills once he graduated high school if he didn’t follow Derek’s edict regarding Deaton. Only his desire to be with Allison kept him away from the hospital where Deaton was in the burn unit.

Now, a month after the events of that Saturday, Derek slipped through the open window.

Stiles, unsurprised by Derek’s sudden appearance, pressed pause on media player on his laptop, and said, “Did you see them?” (Derek had heard of a place where omegas could be rehabbed, and maybe find a new pack of their own, and he’d delivered the three captured omegas there after they spent an uncomfortable night in a cell in the basement of the Hale house. Today he’d gone there to check on them.)

Derek grunted. It was almost a comfort that _that_ hadn’t changed, at least. He took off his boots and sat on the bed beside Stiles, who’d been watching an episode of Parks and Recs. This was new. Stiles’s untimely (timely?) transformations (and a long talk with Stiles’s dad) had convinced Derek that a) Stiles’s feelings for him were more than sexual – learning that Derek had been able to smell his desire for months had been mortifying in the extreme – and b) Stiles could protect himself with more than a wooden bat and a handful of mountain ash.

Derek had stayed with Stiles that first night (the rest of the pack, including Peter, had slept downstairs). In the morning, when Stiles had been surprised to see them all there, Derek shook his head and said, “We need to start working on your senses.”

Derek had given Stiles a long look before leaving that felt more intimate than a kiss would’ve. Stiles tried to control his breathing as he watched Derek walk away. The other werewolves smirked and knocked Stiles’s shoulder as they left.

“If you hurt him . . . ,” Peter said.

“Right back atcha,” Stiles said. And now he could, though he didn’t think he’d be using his flame on anyone for a while, especially Peter because that would be more trauma than even Stiles could bear.

“Which one is this?” Derek said, drawing Stiles’s thoughts back to the present.

Stiles restarted the episode at the beginning. “I don’t think you’ve seen this one yet.”

Stiles’s dad found them like that when he came home from work with pizza.

“I was going to make dinner,” Stiles protested.

“And yet, you didn’t. Come on, I got enough to satisfy even the appetites of werewolves and dragons.”

Stiles never imagined he could have this – a friendship that might lead to more with Derek and no more lies between Stiles and his dad. That, along with the research Stiles had been doing into dragons so he could learn to control his powers, was helping Stiles regain his equilibrium. Stiles still missed his BFF, but he had a pack now.

(Derek said he’d already _had_ a pack, but Stiles felt like his new abilities cemented his position. Derek shook his head.)

Stiles put on a burst of speed and beat Derek to the door. He thundered down the stairs after his dad with Derek on his heels, laughing as he skidded into the kitchen. Stiles’s dad quirked an eyebrow at him over three boxes of pizza. Stiles grinned. He had his dad back. He had Derek. He had a pack. And now he had a piece of his mother.

Stiles had never felt so _right_. Happiness ballooned in his chest and Stiles felt like he could soar. Instead he said, “I call dibs on the meat lovers!”

“Joke’s on you,” Stiles’s dad said, “because they’re all meat lovers.”

Stiles squawked, but didn’t move fast enough to grab the boxes away from his dad. It didn’t help that Derek had grabbed him by the waistband and dragged him back.

“You’re my favorite, son,” Stiles’s dad said to Derek as he filled his plate.

“Mine, too,” Stiles said. He busied himself filling his plate in an attempt to hide the heat crawling up his neck.

Derek didn’t say anything, but when Stiles glanced at him, he was smiling. Stiles’s heart skipped and he smiled back.

“Quit making googly eyes at each other and eat the pizza before it gets cold!” Stiles’s dad called from the living room.

“I wasn’t . . . !” Stiles called back. He made a face at Derek, because he totally had been. They both had been. Which was something Stiles was going to think about in depth later. Maybe the ‘more’ thing would happen sooner than Stiles thought.

“Who says ‘googly eyes’ these days, anyway?” Stiles said as he headed to the living room, Derek at his back.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> One day I saw this post on Tumblr: [In Which Diversity Isn’t a Myth](https://joannestorm.tumblr.com/post/190887713723/in-which-diversity-isnt-a-myth)
> 
> _Ok. I’m tired of the typical vampire, werewolf and fairy.I’m also tired of the occidental-centrism in mythology. Hence, this list. I tried to included as many cultural variants as I could find and think of._
> 
> I went back to the post one day when I was looking for ideas for my ‘wing fic’ square and saw _The Polish Dragon_. Of course, I had to use it! The name of the Polish dragon was [Smok Wawelski](http://web.archive.org/web/20100410181701/http://www.icbleu.org/artur/dragonwawel.htm) as I say in the story, but I am ignoring the rest of the story. Sorry, Smok.


End file.
